


After the War

by KauHuf



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Demon, Flustered Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, angel - Freeform, aziraphale being himself, gay shite, gomens, good omens - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KauHuf/pseuds/KauHuf
Summary: (i initially uploaded this while tipsy, i apologize for any errors. lemme know if u see anything, k bye)Aziraphale reads a book and Crowley tries very hard to not be a distraction.





	After the War

**Author's Note:**

> The last fic I wrote was angst, so this one is a walk on the lighter side! Take it as an apology. This is a decent ways after the Not-Apocalypse and everything is cute and sweet and fluffy and just slightly out of character.

Aziraphale was drunk.

Which was not something he often yielded to but curling up with a good book and a chilled glass of wine was something worth indulging in every now and again. He was  _ normally _ only drunk when with a certain snake-eyed demon, but that certainly didn't mean he couldn't partake in the feeling on his own time.

Occasionally, and within reason of course.

He was currently two bottles into a cheap but not too shabby red wine he had picked up at the local market and had been reading old detective novels for the better part of the afternoon and into the evening.

“Day Drinking”, the humans called it.

Aziraphale had been expecting to spend the evening alone, resting comfortably on the couch. The only company he expected was the sound of the wind outside and the ever-present hum of the universe. Until he’d felt the very familiar presence of an aforementioned snake-eyed demon.

“Wonder if he’s bored?” The angel had murmured without moving or looking up. If he really wanted to come in, Crowley would just-

“Angel, I’m bored.”

-come in.

“So I see, Crowley.” Aziraphale responded, calmly turning the page.

“Why don’t we hop over to France, get some of those crepes you’re always on about, hmm?” Crowley asked, already turned back to the door.

“Maybe a lil’ bit later, Crowley. I’m getting to the good part.”

Crowley turned on his heel, an eyebrow cocked. “‘A lil’ bit later?’ When have you ever turned down crepes?”

“When I’m in the middle of sumething else.” Aziraphale murmured as he reached for his glass.

Crowley sauntered around the couch to peek at the angel's book, siding a glance at the empty bottle of wine.

“Oi. You’re havin a nip without me? I’m wounded.”

Aziraphale looked up over his glass, eyes sparkling with just a hint of mischief. “You don’t  _ like _ to read, dear. If I’d invited you over you'd only be a distraction.”

Crowley chuckled, tilting his glasses down slightly so he could look Aziraphale eye to eye.

“Me? A distraction? I would never.”

Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, a small smile tugging his lips. 

“So if I offer you a glass, you promise to be quiet while I finish this book?”

“This chapter.”

“Fine.”

“This page?”

“Don’t push it, Crowley.” Aziraphale giggled, gently booping the man's nose.

Crowley huffed but settled down with the other bottle, completely forgoing a glass as he slung his arm around the back of the couch . He was close enough to Aziraphale that his fingers grazed the top of his shoulder just so.

And to Crowley's credit, he managed to sit still for a grand total of ten minutes and got halfway through the bottle before he pushed his glasses up into this hair.

“Aziraphale?

“Yes, dear?”

“Are you done yet?”

“Nearly.”

Another ten minutes. Crowley, at some point between finishing the wine and Aziraphale turning the page, had miracled himself something a little stronger. He watched Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye, fingers now lightly tangled in feather-soft hair.

“Angel…”

“Crowley?”

“Ya done?”

“No, not yet. Just a few more pages. They’re about to accuse the butler, I think.”

Another ten minutes and another slow page turn. Crowley was beginning to suspect that Aziraphale was a much,  _ much _ slower reader than he had first thought, but he didn’t voice this aloud. Just kept his glass full and watched the angels eyes move steadily across the page.

And Aziraphale  _ did _ have a very particular way of reading, one that reminded Crowley of something meant to be undisturbed. Like a statue or...something else meant to be let alone. The angel held his books in a very distinct way, hands gently cupping the cover so as not to bend the spine, his legs tucked to the side or placed flatly on the floor while a perpetually warmed beverage (typically) was sat on the coffee table. 

_ Come to think of it _ , Crowley thought.  _ Come to think of it, I don't think anyone else is even allowed in the store while Angel reads. _

The thought made Crowley blush, and he downed his drink to wash the thought from his mind. If Aziraphale noticed, he stayed quiet.

A certain amount of time eventually passed and Crowley was properly drunk, humming  _ Angel Eyes  _ to himself.

“Is that bebop?” Aziraphale asked, refilling his glass.

“ _ You’d _ call it that. It’s Abba.” Crowley slurred.

“Ah.  _ Definitely _ bebop, then.”

“Isss disco! Ferthest thing from bebop there is!”

“Further even then classical?” Aziraphale asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yes! Ferther even than clash- clasi-yes.” Crowley responded. “Are ya done yet; this must be the longest ch’pter in the world!”

“Almost.”

Crowley grumbled but settled back onto the couch. He was  _ now _ beginning to suspect that maybe, just maybe this wasn’t the longest chapter in the world and that Aziraphale was playing a game. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done such a thing.

The problem, a very inebriated snake thought to himself, was that Aziraphale was very,  _ very _ clever, and if Crowley called him out he’d only deny it and keep reading his silly-

\- what was it again? 

Crowley tilted his head slightly to read the front of the book.

\- silly detective story, there we go.

So Crowley had to be just as, if not more clever and hopefully get them both to sober up so they could finally  _ do _ something.

“Oi Aziraphale. How many pages does that book of yers have?”

“This one?” Aziraphale asked, tilting the book up slightly.

“Aye, thataone.”

“Well, this one has about 420 pages not counting the index, dedication, all those things.”

“Mmm, right. And tell me, why’sit Ah’ve seen you get through longer books, fassster?”

Aziraphale was quiet, instead taking a drink from his cup.

Here, Crowley thought he had caught Aziraphale and he smiled coyly, feeling very pleased with himself. 

Aziraphale set his glass back down, settling more comfortably against Crowley's arm.“Dear, I thought that’d be obvious. I’ve read all those books before but  _ this _ collection is new. I need to take my time with it, you know I don’t like to go too fast.”

Crowley spluttered as Aziraphale laughed.

“Y’know, methinks you’re notthat slooow of a reader. Annnnd methinks you were doin this to...ta get me drunk!”

Aziraphale giggled, closing the book and placing it on his lap.

“Now  _ why ever _ would I do such a thing, Crowley?”

“Cause you -hic- you’re a basterd!” 

Aziraphale tossed his head back and outright laughed at Crowley, and for a split second, the whole room seemed to light up.

That tended to happen when he laughed. Maybe it was an angel thing...

“I  _ am _ sorry, Crowley but you are so fun to tease. Only sometimes.” Aziraphale said, still chuckling. He gently reached out, only hesitating for a moment to give Crowley time to move, and when he didn’t the angel gently brushed a stray curl out of the demons face.

Crowley blushed even redder at the brief contact, although if he were called out on it he would probably have canceled your cell service, or something equally petty.

“W-whatever! Get up, blast to your book!” Crowley proclaimed as he stood up.

“You aren’t sobering up first?” Aziraphale asked.

“No! Lord-Satan-  _ somebody _ knows I can’t handle you, unless I’m under the influence!”

The door slammed behind Crowley with a rather resolute tinkling bell. Aziraphale giggled but set the book aside, following Crowley so he could convince him to at least sober up a little before getting behind the wheel.

**Author's Note:**

> I know ‘feather-soft’ must be one of the most overused phrases in this fandom, but it really does suit Aziraphale. As always, thanks for reading! Comments? Kudos? Existential questions that fill you with a sense of dread? Lemme know!
> 
> Psst-i know the 420thing looks like a weed joke, but look up 4:2 Ephesians :3


End file.
